


fire fight

by tanyart



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: The only thing Drifter wants to believe is that he's got Shin wrapped around his finger. (And definitely not the other way around.)





	fire fight

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the destiny kinkmeme [here](https://leviathanbathhouse.dreamwidth.org/265.html?thread=1289#cmt1289). 
> 
> Prompt: tender sex (just the once)

The Man With the Golden Gun ain’t shit, and Drifter will tell anyone right here, right now; there ain’t nothing to the guy. 

See, here’s the thing, if a fella really wants to catch Shin Malphur off guard—and Drifter means it— _really_ stop Shin Malphur in his tracks, all they gotta do is be real slow about it. Be sneaky. 

So Shin’s got Drifter flat on his back, temper blazing and ready for a tussle. He’s red hot from a run in with the Vex, and it must’ve been a damned easy fight too, considering Shin’s still itching for more. His hands are rough on Drifter, hard pressure with every touch, and Drifter can tell how Shin wants to burn the rest of his wildfire energy out.

Shin wants it angry, and he wants it to hurt.

And it’s not that Drifter’s scared by that violent gleam in Shin’s eye. Truth of the matter is, Drifter likes it well enough when it’s not aimed his way. Sure made for a couple of great fucks in the past, but after Shin pins Drifter’s wrists to the mattress with his solar-lit hands, Drifter decides that he’s not in the mood for having his skin charred off tonight. 

“Easy there,” Drifter warns, but his voice comes out as a croak, and then he’s hissing out a breath when a heavy weight presses over his hips, grinding down. “ _Malphur_ -”

Shin’s grip on him tightens, burning hot, and he _is_ pissed. Not at Drifter. Well, maybe not _mostly_ at Drifter, but he bares his teeth in that way Drifter knows he’s stuck in the middle some kinda crossfire, some leftover frustration from the day that’s more than just the Vex fight. Shin snaps something curt, voice blurring into a snarl and a command. Drifter jolts, flight instincts kicking in at Shin’s ruthless tone. He doesn’t catch the exact words, too distracted by the singe at his wrists, the rocking movements of Shin above him. His heart’s been trying to pound right out of his chest from from the moment Shin stormed through the Derelict and got him shoved into his own bed.

Again, just to be clear; Drifter’s not scared. He’s steps ahead of Shin Malphur, plans on plans on top of more plans for the worst—but it’s still hard to keep a cool head when Shin’s solar energy is all over the place. Flames in his eyes and smoke on his lips, Light spilling out of him and washing over Drifter in a scalding wave of heat.

Now Drifter ain’t in the habit of sticking his hands in a fire, but power is power. He gets the taste of Shin’s Light on his tongue, liquid gold shockingly easy to swallow despite the burn. A small noise escapes from him, part alarm, part hunger.

Drifter shivers, flushed all over and panting.

So maybe he can’t bring himself to say no, because he wants more of this, even with that underlying fear bubbling way deep inside him. Shin Malphur could kill him right now, put the Last Word to his head and everything, but Shin also ain’t _shit_ , Drifter has to remind himself again. He’s got a white-knuckled grip on the belief that he has at least one advantage over Shin, an end all be all plan.

Shin lowers himself for a biting kiss, but at the last second Drifter meets him halfway with something slower, opening his mouth to smoke and furious heat, taking it in. When Shin closes his teeth around Drifter’s bottom lip, Drifter lets him bite. He doesn’t jerk away, ignoring the sharp sting to linger around Shin’s mouth, pressing closer and angling his head for a proper kiss.

Shin stills. His grip around Drifter’s wrists go slack enough for Drifter to wrench one hand free and bring it up to the back of Shin’s head, fingers sliding through his hair. From there all Drifter has to do is pull him closer to keep him where he is, deepening the kiss between them.

Best way to put out a fire is to smother it. 

Shin goes tense, jaw still working to figure out the change of pace, but Drifter brushes an idle thumb across his cheek. Unplanned, uncalculated—but it must be that Drifter’s got all of Shin’s weaknesses clocked right now because Shin just melts right into it, sinking down to his elbows with a low groan.

Too fucking easy. Now it’s just smart to press the advantage. Drifter blindly works off the clasps to Shin’s armor, trailing his kisses down to Shin’s neck. Everything’s smooth sailing until he makes the mistake of opening his eyes to glance at Shin’s expression. He pauses, ears starting to ring with the pleased noises coming out of Shin, and that’s just them getting handsy with each other.

And Drifter’s not saying Shin starting to fucking glow like early dawn or anything. Just less of a raging solar flare. And no, that isn’t just some pretty metaphor Drifter’s been thinking on lately. He should feel smug, getting the Man with the Golden Gun to switch gears so fast. 

The words to cut Shin down to his knees are there in his mind. Taunting, sly. He’s gotten Shin to angrily beg before, but when Drifter asks, _“What d’you want? How do y’want it?”_ it comes out all wrong, his low growl gone soft and murmuring against Shin’s collarbone. 

He’s on the verge of feeling a little bit ill and embarrassed when Shin pulls away, looking down at him. There’s something unbearable about it.

“I want,” Shin begins. Drifter’s reaching back for him. Shin can’t even finish before he’s mumbling back into Drifter’s mouth, “I want to—”

There’s at least fifty different things Shin could have said, but once they start going at each other again, Shin’s tangle of words just cut off into a series of _I want, I want you to, I want you —_ and Drifter starts to think he’s in danger of losing control of the situation, like he’s getting burned alive despite all his efforts. 

Because Drifter can’t even imagine anyone else getting Shin fuckin’ _Malphur_ to turn his cheek into his palm the way he does with Drifter, or close his eyes as if Drifter isn’t going to put a bullet through his head any moment now. It should be the biggest fucking joke that he can get Shin Malphur to ease up and bow his head with a simple touch.

Instead, Drifter’s mind shutters on and off at the sight of Shin shaking over him, fingers slick with oil, working himself open for Drifter to watch. He’s still mumbling, replying to whatever thing Drifter’s saying, and Drifter doesn’t even want to know what sort of things _he’s_ asking now, because Shin will occasionally still say, _‘I want’,_ and if Drifter times the kisses at his neck right, Shin will start saying ‘ _I want you-_ ’ and cut off with a moan.

Manipulating Shin Malphur is nothing but saying the right things and touching him the right way. Drifter wants to gloat, but he’s got no one to tell. Maybe he doesn’t want to tell. Maybe, if Drifter thinks more about this in the aftermath, he’d find it sad. For either him or Shin, who can say.

But for now, Shin’s looking at him with that damned expression, as if Drifter’s the only thing in his crosshairs and nothing else. His cock drags a wet trail over Drifter’s stomach, heavy and leaking. Drifter’s holding his breath, hands at both sides of Shin’s face, feeling like some kind of idiot until Shin sinks down on Drifter's aching cock and shuts his eyes with broken sounding noise, just in time for Drifter to feel his entire face go up in flames.

“Drifter, move,” Shin says, and it doesn’t sound like a demand this time around. It’s got the warm edge of a laugh around it, and Drifter thinks he might be sick in the head for wanting to hear it again. Shin nudges against Drifter's hands, head sliding down to rest under Drifter's jaw. “C’mon, quit staring.”

Drifter’s tongue is in knots trying to come up with something clever to say. Luckily, Shin starts to move up and down with agonizing slowness that kicks Drifter back into action. He pushes up into Shin with a growl that turns into another kiss Shin decides to initiate this time. It’s open mouthed and languid and could have very well been payback for earlier. Drifter shudders into it, grasping at the back of Shin's neck, his hip, anywhere. He won’t last long, not at this rate, not with Shin burning him up like this. 

They kiss until Drifter runs out of breath, and then he’s gasping, “oh fuck, Shin,” and he means to be angry about it but it comes out almost despairing. Shin must’ve heard it, because his rhythm becomes erratic, and there’s a quiet whimper in Drifter’s ear before he trembles and spills himself all over Drifter. After that, Drifter becomes mindless enough to tumble right into his own orgasm at the blurry sight of Shin’s mouth curving up, the feel of Shin’s fingers running through his hair. Nothing but liquid heat washing over his body.

It takes a couple of more minutes to become coherent again. When Drifter finally pulls up his scattered thoughts, Shin’s gone and tucked himself next to him, still awake but quiet. Drifter tries to lift his hand, but he’s got his fingers threaded through Shin’s. He exhales, the prickle of solar energy welling up in him again. He feels warm, warmer than he has been the last few centuries.

Fucking hell. Maybe the one on fire is him.


End file.
